


An Inglorious End and a new Trend

by KeeperofSeeds



Series: down time on the Dreadful Wale [5]
Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Dreadful Wale, Ficlet, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Low Chaos Emily Kaldwin, Swimming, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-05 01:33:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14033280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeeperofSeeds/pseuds/KeeperofSeeds
Summary: Emily goes swimming, and deals with the ridiculous notions and jokes of her companions.





	An Inglorious End and a new Trend

Emily brushes a hand down her face, clearing the water from her eyes to squint up toward the rail of the Dreadful Wale.

"What was that?" she calls up.

Meagan is sitting with one leg on either side of the railing, smoking and keeping her eye on Emily.

"I said, it would be quite an inglorious end if you'd gone through all this, fighting your way out of Dunwall and all, only to be taken out by hagfish of all things."

"I won't be much longer," she says. "I only needed a break from the heat. I felt like I'd melt right out of my clothes!" She bobs with the gentle waves kicking against the hull. "Father never managed to get across the oppressive heat in his stories of Karnaca."

"You get used to it," Meagan says, and watches as Emily takes a breathe and darts underwater once more, coming up alongside the nearest rung to pull herself aboard.

"I'm not sure if I believe that," Emily replies, wringing out her damp hair.

"Too many years in Dunwall, your Majesty. The cold and damp seep into your bones. Now you've got thaw out."

"More than likely she'll burn lobster red before then," Sokolov says from his spot on the deck. "Your mother almost passed out from the heat more than once on her first visit to the South. The style at the time of furred collars and cloaks made the trip particularly difficult."

Emily makes a disgusted noise. "Ugh! I can imagine."

"Maybe you can start a new fashion once you return," Meagan says, and snorts at the idea. Emily is currently pulling her shirt off to wring more water out. Her arms are tanned and her hair is slicked back from her face in stringy waves. She’s antithesis of nobility and any conceivable idea of fashion.

Sokolov cackles with delight at the impropriety of it all. "How the nobles in court would flush if they could see you now," he says. Emily flicks her shirt towards him before spreading it out on a nearby crate to dry. Meagan silently agrees. It’s quite the picture: the Empress of the Isles, wearing nothing but her small clothes, scratching her peeling nose, and dripping onto the deck as she waits for her clothes to dry.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Chill Of The Void](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14491509) by [Nightelfbane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightelfbane/pseuds/Nightelfbane)




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